The Penny Bangle (8 page)

‘I’ll walk back with you – that’s if you don’t mind?’

‘I don’t mind at all.’ Then Cassie thought, please take my hand, please take me in your arms – no, don’t, it would be pointless, it would only make me sad.

‘What did you say?’ asked Robert.

‘I didn’t speak,’ said Cassie.

‘But your lips were moving.’

‘You’re imagining things.’

As well as farming, Cassie was getting interested in gardening and in horticulture, too. Before she’d come to Dorset, she’d never really thought about where food was actually grown, or wondered how it ended up in shops.

They’d had allotments back in Smethwick, but she had never seen one. She hadn’t had a father or an uncle to take her digging potatoes, planting carrots, picking beans. Lily Taylor’s little terraced house had had no garden, just a brick-paved yard in which there was a mangle and an outside lavatory shared by the whole row.

The Denhams’ kitchen garden, with its long, straight rows of currant bushes, cloches protecting delicate and over-wintering crops, raspberry canes and funny-looking plants she didn’t know the names of yet, was a revelation. Cassie liked to work there, listening to the birdsong, and feeling the warm, spring sun upon her face.

One Monday evening, Robert found her hoeing carefully among the just-emerging broad bean plants, where the weeds were springing up as well, and humming to herself.

‘Hello, Cass,’ he said, and smiled.

‘Oh, it’s you,’ she said, and then she grinned. She couldn’t help herself.

‘You don’t have to work all day,’ he said, taking the hoe out of her hands and walking down the row towards the path.

She followed him. ‘I like it – gives me exercise,’ she said. ‘All right, hoeing weeds is work to you, but it’s a novelty for me. You can’t imagine what it’s like, living in a city where the sky’s a dirty grey, where the grass is yellow, where the canals are full of muck and rubbish. Dorset’s a paradise compared to Brum.’

‘I grew up in India. Dad was in the army and he was based in Delhi, so I know what it’s like to live in cities,’ Robert said. ‘Cassie, you’re a conscientious worker, but you mustn’t overdo it. We don’t want to work you half to death.’

‘Why should it bother you?’ she asked him.

Then she felt herself go red. She hadn’t meant to sound so rude and so aggressive, but he got her so confused she couldn’t help herself. ‘You’re going off,’ she added. ‘You’re going to get yourself smashed up again.’

‘I don’t
want
to get smashed up,’ said Robert. ‘I hope I won’t get hurt. But if I do – well, I’m in the army. It’s my job.’

‘Why do men like fighting?’

‘I don’t know if we like it, but it’s something most men have to do at some point in their lives.’

‘You could all be pacifists instead?’

‘I don’t think so, Cassie.’ Robert shrugged. ‘It’s not the way most men are made. Do you admire the pacifists?’

‘Yes, I knew a few of them in Brum, and they were all good blokes. There were these two brothers, they were Quakers, they were in the Heavy Rescue. Some of their mates drove ambulances, others worked in hospitals as porters, and some of them were firemen.’

‘So they’re doing their bit, and I respect anyone who does their bit,’ said Robert gravely. Then he smiled his lovely smile again, and – miracle of miracles – he took her by the hand. ‘Come on, Cassie, leave your weeds. It’s nearly time for supper.’

As Cassie’s heart beat twenty to the dozen, Robert’s smile grew wicked. ‘There’s bound to be another pot of Mum’s delicious stew, with lots of that pearl barley you’ve come to like so much.’

‘Yes, I have,’ she said. ‘So you can just stop mocking me. The food you country people eat isn’t what I’ve been used to having. I never had your sort of meals while I was growing up. But now I’ve got a taste for them.’

She’d got a taste for Robert, too. She let him hold her hand a moment longer, then she thought that somebody might see them, and so she shook him off.

She sneaked a glance at him. Yes, he was tall and dark and handsome, he looked like a film star – and he knew it, too. My granny warned me about men like him, she thought. Nobs who think all working girls are tarts, and up for anything.

You keep a grip, girl, don’t you give away your heart.

But as they walked back to the cottage, she could still feel the warmth of his broad palm against her own, still feel a silly, happy smile playing round her lips. More than almost anything, she wanted him to hold her hand again.

‘I’ve got my marching orders too,’ said Stephen, as they rolled out the churns and waited for the lorry one March morning.

‘Oh, Steve, where are you going?’ Frances looked suddenly stricken, Cassie noticed, ashen-faced and fearful.

‘Only up to London. I’m being seconded to the General Staff, and I’ll be working in an office.’ Stephen winked at Cassie. ‘You wouldn’t know it just to look at me, but actually I’m pretty good at reading, writing, all that kind of thing. I’ll make sure the army gets its bombs and shells and bullets, that there are plenty of lorries, tanks and guns.’

‘Basically, he’s going to run a quartermaster’s stores,’ said Robert, laughing as his brother punched him, falling back and groaning as if he was really hurt.

‘When will you be leaving?’ Frances whispered.

‘I think it’s Friday week.’

‘But what about us?’ said Cassie, frowning. ‘We can’t manage everything between us.’

‘Dad’s going to get Mr Hobson from the village to help out,’ said Stephen reassuringly. ‘So you’ll be all right.’

‘But Mr Hobson is so old,’ objected Frances.

‘He’s going to bring one of his sons with him. Daniel Hobson’s backward, so he won’t be called up, but he knows his way around the cows.’ Robert smiled his most beguiling smile. ‘Ladies, will you write to us?’

‘If you’ll write back,’ said Cassie. ‘I haven’t got time to sit around and write to people who will use my letters to wipe their arses on.’

‘What a suspicious mind you have,’ said Stephen.

‘As if we would do anything like that.’ Robert laughed at Cassie’s frown. ‘I’ll write back,’ he promised. ‘Cross my heart and hope to die. We’re going to miss you, aren’t we, Steve?’

‘You can’t wait to get away,’ said Cassie, but only to herself. She understood that he was restless, for she was restless, too.

In spite of liking being in the countryside, and working on the farm, and having all these new experiences, she also missed the hustle and the bustle of the town.

She didn’t miss the dirt and smoke and grime. But she missed the noise, she missed the rush, she missed the shops and trams, the streets and crowded buses, the glamour and excitement of going to the cinema and to the local dance hall with the girls with whom she’d been at school, because she loved to dance.

She missed the food, especially the Italian hokey-pokey, the meat-and-jelly-filled pork pies, and the golden, fresh-fried fish and chips.

She missed her granny. She worried about Lily all the time, and hoped she wouldn’t get caught in a raid. Lily didn’t seem to think she was in any danger. She thought that if she said her prayers and lived a holy life, she’d be all right.

Cassie said her prayers for Lily, too.

She didn’t know what she’d do if Lily died.

‘I think Robert likes you,’ whispered Frances a week later, as she and Cassie did the washing up after they’d all had their mid-day meal. Mr Denham was having forty winks, the twins had gone to town to buy some stuff they’d need before they went away, and Mrs Denham was outside on the drying green, getting her washing in.

‘He likes you, too,’ said Cassie.

‘You know what I mean,’ said Frances, blushing.

‘He’s been cooped up here for months and months,’ said Cassie, knowing she was reddening too. ‘He’s been like an eagle in a cage. He hasn’t had a chance to spread his wings. Frances, he’s a cock, and I’m a hen, and so it’s only natural – ’

‘Oh, Cass, you say the most outrageous things,’ said Frances, laughing.

‘Well, I’m not trying to be out-whatsit, don’t you even think it.’ Cassie scrubbed a saucepan with unnecessary force. ‘Frances, listen – don’t misunderstand me, don’t take this the wrong way. The fact is – I like everybody I’ve met here in Dorset. You’ve all been good to me. But you’re a bunch of toffs, and I’m a guttersnipe from Brum. Men brought up like Robert don’t value girls like me.’

‘That’s nonsense, Cassie.’

‘No it’s not,’ snapped Cassie.

‘How do you know, then?’

‘I might tell you one day.’ Cassie pulled the plug out, let the water gurgle down into the old zinc bucket underneath the sink.

‘Gosh, that sounds mysterious.’

‘Frances, Stephen told me that you wanted to join the ATS,’ said Cassie, wishing she hadn’t got into that previous conversation.

‘Yes, I did. But Mummy said – ’

‘How old are you, Fran?’

‘I’m twenty-two.’

‘So you’re officially grown up. Frances, listen – it’s
your
life, not Mummy’s. Why don’t you do what
you
want, for a change?’

‘I suppose I don’t want it quite enough,’ admitted Frances, shrugging as she hung a couple of damp tea-towels on the plate rack. ‘It’s so much easier, doing what my mother says. I’m a coward, too. I wouldn’t want to leave my home and to go off on my own.’

‘Well, I don’t want to bury myself in Melbury all my life.’ Cassie grinned. ‘So why don’t I come with you?’

‘Cassie, if we leave, poor Mrs Denham is going to be stuck,’ said Frances gravely. ‘Perhaps we ought to stay?’

‘Oh, don’t make excuses, Fran,’ said Cassie. ‘All she has to do is get on to the Ministry of Labour, or put an advert in the
Farming Times
. She’ll easily find new girls for Melbury.’

‘Do we dare?’ asked Frances.

‘Let’s find out what’s available,’ said Cassie. ‘On our next half day, we’ll both go into Dorchester and go to the recruiting offices. We can make enquiries, and see where we’d fit in.’

‘My mother had better not find out,’ said Frances.

‘Well, I’m not going to tell the mean old maggot.’ Cassie grinned again. ‘She doesn’t sound like the sort of person who would speak to me in any case, unless I was her charlady or serving in a shop.’

‘Well, that’s just Mummy, isn’t it?’ Frances shook her head. ‘It’s funny, don’t you think, how things work out?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘You and Robert – may I be your bridesmaid?’

‘Oh, don’t be ridiculous,’ said Cassie, going scarlet. ‘I know you like to tease me, Fran. You don’t mean any harm, but sometimes you take things too far.’

Cassie wished she didn’t still dream of Robert every night.

But, once she’d closed her eyes, he came and took her hand, and then he pulled her into his embrace, and they were kissing, more than kissing, and she woke up horrified by what they’d done – or almost done. She remembered Father Riley’s lectures to her confirmation class, when he’d talked extensively about all kinds of sin.

As the time for him and Stephen to remain in Dorset ticked away, she almost wished he would go sooner. Then she might have some peace.

It was so difficult, seeing him all the time and wishing he would brush her hand, would touch her hair, and it was so embarrassing to start grinning like a halfwit whenever he happened to glance in her direction.

Everyone must have noticed she was making a right old exhibition of herself. So perhaps it would be better if
she
was going away?

As she thought about it, the more it seemed desirable, and – what was more – achievable. So what she was a woman, not a man?

She’d have liked to have adventures, too.

Chapter Five

After the twins had gone, it was so quiet.

Mr Hobson and his son were silent and methodical as they went about their work. Daniel didn’t speak at all, and Mr Hobson didn’t approve of chatter. He shook his head at Cassie if she talked or sang while she was milking.